


adequate.

by flowerynihilism



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: "fuck it" moment, Angst, Best Friends, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Making Out, Male Friendship, Mentioned Beverly Marsh, Oblivious, Post-Canon, Post-Pennywise (IT), Richie Tozier is a Little Shit, Unresolved Romantic Tension, bathroom make-out sessions hell yeah, but since when does he have good humor anyway, but there isn't a tag for that oops, except it does get resolved, like i swear it's not as angsty as it seems, oh and teen for language and making out, richie has bad humor, stan deserves better parents, summary doesn't explain well sorry!!, there's a lot of fluff!, this was inspired by a joke my friend made lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-07 08:40:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14667422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowerynihilism/pseuds/flowerynihilism
Summary: things aren't perfect after pennywise's defeat, and none of the losers can talk about it, especially stan. that coupled with his parents continually beating him down with expectations of perfection isn't the best remedy for happiness. luckily, he's got his best friend richie by his side, and maybe they can even be more. things can maybe balance out, and things can maybe be... adequate.





	adequate.

**Author's Note:**

> uhh so i basically just got this account but i had this fic written for a while so i decided to jump on posting it. keep in mind that this is the first fic i've actually finished, but it almost surely won't be the last because i love these two with my entire heart and many of my friends know how i basically cope through them, so expect more. i hope u enjoy !!!!!

Richie Tozier, in all his long-legged and messy-haired glory, strode over to Stanley Uris, whose backpack slung over his shoulder and eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

“We skedaddling yet or what?”

Stan shifted his attention from his paper to the boy hovering over his head. He scanned Richie from top to bottom, then back up again.

“Enjoying the view, Uris?” Richie spoke, smirk practically emanating from his words.

Stan cocked an eyebrow, just able to muster up a witty response, “Oh yes of course, I just love the ‘even dorkier than usual’ look. It really tenders my chickens.” He eyed Richie’s over-dramatically offended face before returning to looking over the essay covered in a giant “C.”

Oh. Richie began to catch on. Stan would never get a C. That’s when the silence began to set in.

“It’s… average…?”

“Yeah, dumbass, I know.”

The tension between them grew, and the room’s walls felt like they were growing closer and closer and closer to the two boys. This sort of subject wasn’t generally spoken about between them. Of course it wasn’t forbidden or anything; they would study together and help each other with homework but sometimes grades just hit a little too close to home. 

It’s not that grades mattered to either of them much, but they for sure did for Stan’s parents. And Stan’s parents need to be pleased. Explaining that requires even more explaining, but by the time that would be over one thing would already have lead to another and the two boys would both have landed huddled over a pile of their tears, so it’ll just be left more or less to the imagination. 

It was the crying that was forbidden.

So was speaking of Georgie’s death and Richie’s missing poster and Stan’s scars and Beverly’s father and all the rest of it. The list of traumas went on. But it wasn’t spoken of, and it never would be.

So Richie simply fell back into his safety net of humor and sarcasm. He had to. The eyebrows began waggling once more, the smirk began forming, and the weight on his chest left. 

“I can talk to the teacher. She knows exactly how good I am.”

“Even if you weren’t just implying what I know you were, there’s nothing you could do… Despite your great ability at bullshitting, your charisma needs work.”

“Last night could beg to differ.”

“Oh beep beep, dickface, that doesn’t even make sense. We’re going to be late if you keep this up.”

And with that, Stan stuffed the essay into the middle pocket of his backpack, and flung it over his other shoulder. They walked through the bustling hallways and made it part way to their next class when Richie grabbed Stan’s arm and began pulling him the other direction.

“Did you not hear what I just said!” Stan exclaimed, now being pulled away from class and towards an impending tardy slip.

“Well did you not hear what I just said??” Richie waved his arms about wildly, motioning toward the bathroom they were now standing before.

Stan stared back blankly.

“What?”

Richie continued waving his arms, but this time with more vigor, hoping Stanley would get the point he was trying to get across.

He got it. “Oh. You said that?”

Richie finally dropped his arms in defeat and sighed, “Yes, multiple times.” He dragged out the syllables as he spoke, drawing out every unnecessarily dramatic feeling he could possibly envoke. 

Oh god, of course you didn’t listen the whole time you were too busy watching— nevermind, Stan thought, tucking the thought away in his mind and following Richie into the brightly lit school bathroom.

“Why did you need me here anyways?” 

“Oh, just to make out of course,” Richie said so nonchalantly that Stan could’ve sworn his heart skipped a beat, “I can’t survive without you, Uris. You’re my last hope at reproduction!”

“Beep beep.” 

Yeah… that’s more like it.

Still, Stanley Uris couldn’t help but wonder in that moment… 

Their eyes locked for a moment, a short moment albeit, but still enough to send both of their minds reeling and swirling with possibilities because what was that look and could he have meant it and everything possible in between. So even after the moment passed, their minds stayed there, locked and trapped in comfortable silence, Stan watching the way Richie’s lips curled so effortlessly into his signature smile and his striking cheekbones as the light bounced off his face and Richie watching the way Stan’s curls bounced from the breeze coming in through the window and how intently his eyes stared and—

Richie abruptly turned from his friend to the second stall from the door, entering.

Shit, Stan thought.

As it turned out, Richie was doing more reflecting than pissing than he first intended when coming into the bathroom. He thought that maybe something had changed. Or at least he wished. 

He would never admit anything if directly asked about it, but he would probably say that he’s had on and off feelings for the boy at the other end of the room. The “probably” would be referring to his complete and utter lack of understanding when it comes to emotions, especially like this, and the “on and off” would be a whole other story to get into. But at least in this moment, oh god did he love—like? want? whatever— Stanley Uris. 

And oh shit would he want the previous—mind you, joking— mention of them coming to the bathroom to make out to be real right about now. But instead… he flushed and gained his composure.

Stanley wasn’t taking it well. Despite his dry and seemingly reluctant friendship with Richie, he knew exactly how he felt, and was sure as hell afraid to hide it. So he did. He wasn’t quite sure if that would save him or screw him over, but either way, in this moment, he was sunk.

Falling fast, falling hard—worse than before, he wanted to be kissed. But not just by anyone, by him. Because despite it all, there was something there. And maybe even in this fantasy world where people’s brother’s arms don’t get ripped off and you aren’t a disappointment to the only people that seem to actually care and Richie Tozier actually loves you back, you can talk about those things and you can cry in a huddle and it can be ok. 

Stanley Uris was a boy of logic, a boy of morals, and a boy of feelings, somehow all wrapped into one, but that meant his feelings had to have logic. So he thought through why—or at least tried to, but he ended up just smiling a whole bunch—and he thought through if there was a chance. He tried to find a glimmer of a chance. 

But after all his intense thinking and smiling and trying his hardest to get it right and make that world come true, Stan thinks has no reason to believe that it could be. Richie Tozier feels nothing for him.

And then he comes out of the stall.

And Stan is ruined once more.

Richie noted things about Stan. He noted the way he scratched at his thumbs when he got nervous and the way he scrunched his eyebrows intently while trying to solve a problem and, most notably, how he nibbled at the corner of his bottom lip when he held back a smile. And he noted all of this now. And then he opens his mouth to speak. And then nothing comes out.

And Richie is ruined once more.

“You do that when you hold back a smile,” he blurted out, unaware of how long they’ve been silent. He watched Stan’s face wake up to reality, as if he was just zoning out.

“Oh.”

Stanley’s teeth gnawed his inner cheek anxiously, realizing how thick the tension in the room was. It was even more so than before, and that was practically unbearable. He didn’t know what he wanted to do more: run out and escape this nightmare or just kiss the dumbass right in his stupid face.

So he didn’t pick. He just stood there gaping like a fish.

So Richie picked.

“Fuck it.”

Stan’s eyebrows furrowed with confusion for a second.

Then Richie bridged the gap between the two, releasing both the tension in the room and the weights on their chests. Stan’s lips were soft, and they parted the slightest at their connection.

Richie hadn’t understood how this had happened, his mind blank in the moment, only focusing on Stan and himself and how good he felt. He smiled into it and the realization of what this means dawned on him. He agrees. He feels the same.

The kiss started calm, warm, soothing—like something out of a cheesy romance movie. Stan moved his hands from his sides to rest them on Richie’s waist and he leaned in, pushing the other against the wall. It was meant as a calm gesture, adding to the almost serene sort of feeling, open to whatever else, but not wanting to push it. 

But then Richie broke the kiss.

And he was smirking, like always. “That’s how you want to play it, Uris? Then you’re in for a not so big surprise.” He leaned in to Stan’s ear, whispering,“I know what I’m doing.”

A slight shiver run down the other’s spine, and Richie gently switched their positions, Stan now being the one with his back up against the bathroom wall.

Richie pressed their lips together for the second time, possibly making it even better than before. Stan’s head was pounding because it all felt so surreal. He simply went along, letting the other boy take the lead. Richie slung his arms around Stanley’s shoulders, pulling him closer.

His tongue swiped over his lips, immediately being allowed entrance. Their tongues intermingled and intertwined, swishing over the other, creating this dream world where the only thing that ever needs to happen is kissing. No, not even kissing, “bathroom makeout sessions,” in Richie’s words. It’s just them, their soft feelings and their warms bodies, and it’s good. Their hands tangle in each other’s hair, taking in everything there is to take in.

One second Stan feels like he could do this forever and the next he thinks that maybe he has been.

He is the first one to break away, despite believing to himself that he’s also the one that wants it to go on forever the most.

“Fuck.”

Richie cocks an eyebrow and pops out the signature smirk once more, at least actually a bit fitting given the occasion. “Is that a moaning ‘fuck’ or a ‘I made a mistake’ ‘fuck’ my good Manley Stanley?”

Stan speaks without thinking, slightly out of breath still, “Both.”

“Amazing, irresistible with my charm am I right?” Richie muses.

“Do you seriously have to ruin it?”

“God, Uris, you can’t stick your tongue down my throat then act as if I don’t affect you. You wound me, my love.”

Back to the dramatics, Stan thought, Of course. He rolled his eyes, then peered at his watch, suddenly re-remembering why they stopped.

“We’re late.”

“Yeah.”

“Worth it?”

“Yeah.”

They smiled. Then that smile turned into a giggle, which turned into a chuckle, which turned into a full-on laughing fest. Oh, how quickly the tides can change.


End file.
